California grass is here! Fat or slender, steamed or roasted, even deep-fried: it's just a week until the official beginning of spring, and that means, after a long winter of kale, kale, collards, and kale, beautiful asparagus--called 'grass' in the produce biz--is reappearing this month, right alongside the daffodils, tulips, and magnolia blossoms brightening every front yard.

Asparagus, you might be surprised to find out, used to be considered a member of the lily family (Liliaceae), which also included onions, garlic, leeks and the rest of the edible and ornamental alliums. But the botanical powers that be have since split that family, making a separate Asparagaceae genus of some 300 mostly ornamental species. However, unless you have a botany geek among your midst, it's still fun to amaze your friends with your mastery of obscure plant facts by mentioning the asparagus-lily connection, should conversation around the buffet need a goose.

What's really interesting, however, is how asparagus grows. It's a perennial plant, for starters, growing from a tangled, ring-like "crown" planted some six to eight inches below the surface of the soil. Once an asparagus patch is well established (it generally takes about 3 years to become fully productive), it can last for decades. The asparagus spears work like bulbs--in the same way that tulips and daffodils push up their stems and leaves from their storehouse underground, so an asparagus patch can be bare dirt one day and a forest of insouciant little tips the next. The spears come up in leaps and bounds, an inch one morning and practically full-size the next.

Some commercial asparagus growers have to harvest their fields several times a day to keep a consistent size and shape. The spears come up without distraction--no leaves, no flowers, no frills. Once they're long enough to harvest, out come the knives, cutting them off just below soil level. Like peas, asparagus are most tender and succulent straight out of the garden, which makes them worth seeking out straight from the farmer rather than at the supermarket.

The stalks should be turgid and smooth, not flaccid, pithy, or ridged. The tiny leaves should still be tight against the stalk, and the tips should be firm, the leaf tips closed with no sign of rot or sliminess at the top. The best way to judge freshness is to look at the base: really fresh asparagus will look moist, almost translucent. A day later, it's chalky; after that, it's solid white, with woodiness moving up the stalk.

You can feel where the tenderness of an asparagus stalk starts, just by bending it gently about three-quarters of the way down the stalk. Hold it with the tip pointing to your right, and you'll feel it: tender over to the right, woody to the left. Snap it right where the stiffness gives, keeping in mind that the fresher it is, the less you'll have to take off.

Cooking asparagus is a lot like cooking corn: you're not so much cooking it as just heating it through, nudging it gently over the line from raw to tender. Asparagus moves very quickly from green and tender to khaki and mush, and once gone, there's no bringing it back. You can steam-simmer it in a wide, flat saute pan, spreading it out in a bare half-inch of boiling salted water, moving it around with tongs to keep it cooking evenly, whisking it out into an ice bath the moment it starts to give.

Or you can flash-roast it, my favorite method. Preheat your oven to 450F. Lay your asparagus out on a baking sheet, drizzling olive oil over the tips, rolling the rest of the spears around in whatever's left. Go lightly: you don't want the stalks to dry up like paper in oven's blast of heat, but neither do you want them dripping and soggy with oil. Sprinkle with sea salt and grind on some coarse black pepper. Pop in the oven for 5-7 minutes, depending on your oven. They should be supple with perhaps a little ambered charring here and there. Again, don't overdo it, otherwise the lovely succulent tips will end up shriveled and chewy-brown.

To serve them as is, add a generous squeeze of lemon juice and perhaps a little flurry of finely grated lemon rind. (Meyer lemons are very nice, should you have a backyard tree.) Tangerine or even blood-orange juice can make for an interesting change. I find that roasted asparagus tastes best still warm; if you're planning to cook ahead, I'd stick with steaming, and don't put anything acid (citrus juice, vinegar) onto it until just before serving, as the acid will turn your grass from bright green to a muddy pea-soup shade very quickly.

Hollandaise sauce, in my opinion, is the most perfect accompaniment to asparagus, a suitably rich gilding for the season's first crop. But with its tricky-to-make reputation and Mad-Men ingredient list (butter, butter, egg yolks, lemon juice, butter), it's pretty much fallen out of favor among home cooks, reserved only for eggs Benedict at birthday brunches. Instead, here's a lovely spring salad to green up your table, just in time for St. Patrick's Day this week.

Ingredients for Spicy Mash

Indian food -- the aromatic spices, the color, the bold flavors. Love it. Unfortunately, I'm a bit of a wimp when it comes to heat (good thing for raita and mango lassis to soothe my burning tongue). But, when I tasted this Spicy Mash for the first time, it was so delicious I couldn't stop eating it. Tears were starting to stream down my face, but my hand just kept bringing forkful after forkful to my mouth. It hurt so good.

This brilliant recipe is all thanks to my lovely friend, Fatema. I was super excited when she offered to come over one night to teach us some Indian home-cooking. I've experimented a bit with Indian food before, but still haven't been able really nail my favorites, like Chicken Tikka Masala (the hunt continues for the perfect recipe).

As Fatema unpacked her bag of groceries, I quickly discovered why. It's in the spices! Fatema's mum had just sent her a shipment of spices from Bangladesh via London. They knocked the socks off any of the jarred spices I had in my spice rack. I might as well be storing sawdust in my pantry.

The fragrance and potency of those Indian spices transformed this very simple dish of smashed potatoes. Raw onion and cilantro also added layers of savory, fresh, flavor. (I know, I usually hate raw onions, but it works in this. The trick is to slice them as thin as possible.)

The measurements in this adapted version of Spicy Mash are based on the potent spices I received from Fatema, so this may take a little bit of trial and error the first time you make it with the store-bought stuff (assuming you don't have a little Indian spice fairy like I do). My recommendation is to make the spice butter as directed and then add it gradually to the potatoes, tasting as you go. If more flavor is needed, you can always add more spice, but remember, you can never take out. So taste, taste, taste, as you go, until you get just the right ratio to your liking.

I also made some adaptations to Fatema's original recipe. Like I mentioned before, I can't take too much heat, so I omitted the minced green chilis she used and cut down on the amount of chili powder. I also added some ginger, grated to a pulp on a microplane, for some extra umph…and a bit of milk and cream cheese, which has always been a secret ingredient in my house when it comes to creamy mashed potatoes.

Special thanks to my little spice fairy and her spice smuggling mum! Spicy Mash is definitely going to be a new staple in my repertoire.

Spicy Mash

Spicy Mash

Serves: 4-6 as a side

Ingredients:
2 pounds potatoes, peeled and quartered
½ cup onion, thinly sliced
¼ cup chopped cilantro
1/3 cup milk
3 tablespoons butter
1 ounce cream cheese
1 tablespoon grated ginger
2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons yellow curry powder
½ teaspoon turmeric
¼ teaspoon chili powder
Pinch of chili flakes

Preparation:
1. Boil potatoes about 20 minutes, or until you can pierce through them easily with a fork.
2. Mash the potatoes, adding the milk, cream cheese, ginger, and salt, and incorporating well.
3. In a saucepan, melt the butter until it starts to froth. Add the curry, turmeric, chili powder, and chili flakes. Cook the spices for a minute or so in the butter, toasting them up until they are fragrant. Be careful not to burn them.
4. Add this to the mashed potatoes and mix well.
5. Stir in the onions and cilantro. Serve while warm.

Note: If you love spice and need more heat, add some finely minced green chili pepper.

How are we celebrating the Fourth of July up in Bernal? We're harvesting the tater bucket! You might recall, back in the early, chilly days of spring, right around St Patrick's Day, a handful of ugly sprouting potatoes were thrown face-down in a bucket of dirt, given their chance for producing the next generation. And now, the resulting crop of new potatoes has been dug up, rinsed, steamed, browned in butter and chives, and eaten.

To be true red-white-and-blue homesteaders, we could have whisked up some homemade mayonnaise and made all-American potato salad. But the patio potatoes were too few, and too precious, for that. They needed to be appreciated just for their dainty little selves.

You might be saying to yourself, wow, those sure are some small potatoes. And it's true. The original potatoes planted were fingerlings, which are naturally small, but these are rather petite even for those.

What happened was, alas, a fungal infection of some kind. Might have been early blight, might have been a wilt like fusarium. All of a sudden, about a month ago, the lovely healthy leaves got brown-spotted one by one. The brown turned to yellow, and eventually the whole stem got limp and died. The brown turned to yellow, and eventually each cluster of leaves faded and died while the stem below the soil line rotted. And once the leaves were gone, the pizza delivery to the potatoes stopped, so to speak, and so did their growth.

These, then, were my teenage potatoes, kicked out of the nest a little young. I think it was partly my fault, due to some overwatering that probably spurred the blight's progression, since fungal diseases are spread and exacerbated by moisture.

Luckily, though, this happened pretty far along in the tater-growing process, meaning we still got a few good handfuls. And there is something pretty wonderful about harvesting your own dinner--not just picking a few tomatoes or plucking a little basil but plunging your whole arm past the elbow into a bucket of warm dirt, fishing around for what slender gold treasures might be hiding in there. These were true new potatoes, fresh and moist, their skins tattered off merely by washing. Not to mention really, really delicious, if I say so myself.

And just in case you were wondering what a potato looks like when it's still growing, well, it looks like this, only deep in the dirt. You can see that the potato itself isn't a root, like carrots or beets, but rather a stolen, or swollen stem, branching off from the main stem above the roots.

Since most potatoes take about 100 days from sprouting to harvest, there's still time for another crop before the winter wet weather comes on. Will tater bucket #2 be more successful? Stay tuned!

Photos by Sally Carter

It's an exciting time around the farmers market these days. I hadn't been to the market for about two weeks, and was amazed at how much the market changed in a short amount of time. There is a promise of summer fruit in the air, and the spring vegetables are in abundance. Here are some of the things I am looking forward to this month:

CHERRIES

Cherries are making their way to the market, and should be available for approximately a month. We usually see the Brooks variety cherry first which is a crisp, tart cherry. That will be followed by Bing cherries, Rainier and sour cherries among other varieties. I am partial to Bing cherries from Lagier Ranch -- Mr. Lagier brings them to the market when they're perfectly ripe and delicious. This year, I will be keeping an eye out for sour cherries, as they make for a delicious brandied fruit which can then be used throughout the year for cocktails and desserts.

POTATOES

A while back, I told you about new potatoes -- the beginning of the season potatoes that are spectacular in flavor and freshness. I'm happy to report that they are back and I spotted them at the Berkeley Farmers Market last week at the Full Belly Farm booth. They are expected at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market in the next month or so.

PEAS

Denise told you about making a pea soup this week, and I am looking forward to trying out that recipe. The fact of the matter is that my peas rarely make it past the shelling stage as I usually eat them raw or slightly steamed. But if you have the willpower, now is an excellent time to shell and freeze peas. My favorite place to purchase them is the Swanton Berry Farm booth that is in many local farmers markets.

STRAWBERRIES

Northern California is very lucky: our strawberries have an extremely long fruit season, and we will have them around for a while. Still, this is the perfect time to buy strawberries and freeze them if you can. If you have room, I suggest hulling the berries and freezing on a large cookie tray before storing in a freezer bag. I buy mine from Lucero Farm and from Yerena Farm.

ALMOND BUTTER

This is not really a seasonal product, but I just wanted to give a shout-out for Greg Massa's excellent Almond Butter. You may know Massa Organics farm for selling really delicious brown rice at many Bay Area markets. If you check his booth carefully, you will notice an almond butter that he has been producing for a few months. I am addicted to this almond butter, and highly recommend trying it. It's pricey, but if you eat almond butter as slowly as I do, you'll only be making the investment every few months.

What are you looking forward to at the market this month?

It's true: these are some ugly-looking potatoes. Back in December, though, they were sleek, alluring even, a pound or two of organic fingerlings that came as part of a mystery box of roots, tubers, and greens from Mariquita Farms. Somehow, though, they got muscled to the back of the pantry by the 20 pounds of russets bought for holiday latke-making at the same time. By the time I could even think about eating potatoes again, my taters had only baby-making in mind.

These were potatoes hellbent on reproduction. Snaky white shoots were twining out of the eyes, and the shriveled potato meat was just a backpack of snacks for the next generation of tubers-to-be.

Now, I love my city-mandated green-waste bin. But could I really let such determination end up in a compost pile in Vacaville?

During my six months as an apprentice at the Farm & Garden Program at UC Santa Cruz, I had planted dozens of fancy seed potatoes that looked a lot like these. They had produced prodigiously, feeding 50 hungry farmers nearly every day, along with the customers at a 120-member CSA and a twice-weekly farmstand.

Would a handful of sprouters grow just as well in a bucket in Bernal Heights? After all, if Love Apple Farm's potato buckets were good enough for David Kinch, wouldn't a plastic pot do just fine for me? (Cynthia Sandberg must know her stuff; her tiny Love Apple Farm is a kitchen garden whose kitchen just happens to be Kinch's restaurant Manresa.) The process is simple: in a large, deep bucket, lay the sprouting potatoes (each piece, or potatoes, containing at least a couple of eyes) on a layer of soil about four to six inches deep. Cover with another couple of inches of soil. Water in until soil is moist but not soggy. Sit back and wait. When the potatoes have pushed a leafy stem up about 4 inches above the soil, fill in with more soil, covering the stem to just below the top leaves. Continue the grow-and-cover process until you reach the top of the bucket.

And what better time to plant than right around St. Patrick's Day? It's easy to remember, after all, and the closeness to the spring equinox in our climate pretty much ensures frost-free nights from now on. A beautifully informative essay on the role of potatoes in rural Irish life can be found in John Thorne's Pot on the Fire; at the end of the chapter he has recipes for both champ and colcannon, two easy dishes of greens (which could be foraged) and potatoes (homegrown), both of which make delicious vegetarian alternatives to the typical corned beef & cabbage.

For champ, peeled potatoes are boiled, drained, and pummeled to smoothness. While the potatoes are boiling, tender spring greens--nettles, spinach, turnip or radish tops--are gently simmered in milk. The greens (and the milk) are tipped into the potatoes and vigorously stirred together. A bowlful with a pat of butter makes a meal.

Colcannon uses slightly tougher greens, like kale and cabbage, and the mixture is stiffer, made firm enough to pat into a flat, thick pancake in a skillet and fry in butter until both sides are crisped up and lightly browned. (You can find boxty, an equally filling Irish potato cake, on the menu at The Liberties at 22nd and Guerrero Sts in the Mission, even if they do California it up with roasted red peppers and feta cheese.)

No plans for a champ-cam trained on the potato bucket yet; after all, most of the action during the next few months will be happening underground. But until then, you can browse the greens reappearing from the earth and dream of harvesting your very own patio potatoes.

Crispy fries are the greatest. When cooked well, French fries can be the highlight of an entire meal. The opposite is also true, however. Bad French fries are disappointing. Soggy French fries are disgusting. Both can ruin an otherwise good lunch or dinner. For years I was disappointed with my homemade French fries. I tried using different types of oils and frying them twice, but they always turned out slightly soggy and never had the crispy exterior I was looking for. I’ve been told that this problem is easily rectified if you own a deep fryer, but I have never wanted to purchase one of those contraptions. It wasn't until I stopped frying all together that I ended up with the crispiest fries of all. Yes, I realize you are wondering how in the world I could make crispy French fries without actually frying my potatoes, but the answer is quite simple: roasting!

My discovery occurred one day when my husband was grilling burgers. I really wanted French fries, but only had about ten minutes before dinner. I threw a few potatoes in the microwave for five minutes so they half baked. I then sliced up the potatoes. Just as I was going to fry them, I remembered I had just used the oven to bake a pie and figured I might as well see how they turned out baked. I laid the potato wedges on an oiled baking sheet and then sprayed them with olive oil and dusted them with salt and some chili powder. Tossing them into the oven, I hoped for the best. 7 minutes later, I took out the tray and was pleasantly surprised. These fries were crispier than any “fried” French fries I had ever made. The centers were fluffy and the outsides crunchy. Ever since that day I’ve turned my back on frying my fries. I now use only partially baked potatoes and then roast in a nice hot oven. A nice side benefit is that these fries are also much healthier than the fried variety and you also won’t get splattered with hot oil making them.

Roasted French: "Fried" Potatoes

Serves: 4-6

Ingredients:
4 Baking potatoes
Olive oil
Salt to taste
1/2 tsp Chili powder

Preparation:
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees

2. Poke potatoes with holes and microwave for five minutes. Note: I don’t peel my potatoes as they don’t bake as nicely in the microwave if they are peeled. If you prefer to have the skin removed on your fries, just let the half baked potatoes cool a bit and then peel them before slicing.

3. Slice potatoes into wedges or julienne pieces (whichever you prefer). Be careful not to burn yourself as the inside of the potatoes are hot. You can also microwave the potatoes ahead of time.

4. Oil a baking sheet

5. Lay potato slices on the baking sheet and spray some olive oil on top. If you don’t have a sprayer, just toss the potatoes in some extra oil from the pan.

6. Top with salt and a dusting of chili powder

7. Bake for about 7 minutes, or until the fries are crispy

8. Serve

Huckleberry Potatoes, Little Organic Farm

Open many books about fresh vegetables and you will find a section in which the author laments about the commonality of the term "new potatoes." We've all seen new potatoes referred to on menus and in supermarkets across the country, but the truth is that what we find are rarely true new potatoes.

"Real new potatoes are harvested from the plant's trailing underground roots while the plant is still growing. They tend to be small and their skins are thin and flaky. They are prized for their fine, delicate flavor, so if you find them -- usually when the first early summer crop is still weeks from harvest ... nab them. I've never seen them sold anywhere but at the farmers' markets and roadside stands, but they may start appearing in specialty markets."

-- Jeff Cox, The Organic Cook's Bible

I smiled this week as I read in the CUESA Newsletter that Little Organic Farm would be returning to the market for a new season. Dave Little farms in Marin County and brings some of the best potatoes you'll ever have to our Bay Area Farmers' Markets. I buy his potatoes from the Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market or the Sunday San Rafael market.

Dave Little in his field, Tomales, Ca

"This year's crop looks really good. The taste is going to be very good, though the drier spring may mean lower yields," says Dave Little about his potatoes. Little Organic Farm practices dry farming, a method of growing in which the farmer plants in wet soil and then does not typically add additional water to the crop as it grows. When potatoes are grown this way, the resultant product is a potato that is high in sugar content and wonderfully flavored. The potatoes have a lower water content and therefore a higher concentration of potato flavor. The trade-off is a very low crop yield. "Farmers who water their crops get a yield of 30,000 to 40,000 pounds of potatoes per acre. We're lucky to get 10,000 pounds," said Dave Little in a phone interview.

Bay Area chefs also love the flavor of Little's potatoes. Range, MarketBar, and Greens are among restaurants that buy Little Organic Farm potatoes for their menus.

All of this potato goodness is made even better when you can buy new potatoes that have been freshly dug. The potatoes that Little had at the market this weekend had been hand dug on Friday and obviously had never been put into storage. If you get a chance to taste them, you will quickly understand why these potatoes are so prized among those of us who seek out new potatoes.

Warm Potato Salad with Bacon

To celebrate the new potato harvest and in honor of the Fourth of July, I made a warm potato salad with bacon that was inspired by a recipe in this month's Gourmet magazine. The recipe seems to be very forgiving to changes. First of all, use your judgment with their suggested cooking time. I found 30 minutes to be too long, and pulled the potatoes out after about 20 minutes. While I followed the general idea of the recipe, I added shallots into the vinegar and tossed them with the warm potatoes because I didn't have chives. Then to add a bit of green in at the end, I chopped up some Ancho Cress -- a spicy green that I picked up this weekend from Marin Roots Farm.

The result was delicious, and a great way to show off the amazing flavor of new potatoes.